My Love Under Cover
by PheonRen
Summary: Kim is a waitress and a single mother. Aside from the fact that she works for the Mob, her life is pretty normal and simple. When Michael arrives under cover, she thinks he's a cop. After she finds out that he's an Ifrit, she must choose between security, or a life with a man that sets her blood on fire in every possible way. Adult but no erotica.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Most of my stories are written in third person. This one is written in first person.

My Love Under Cover is written in the Supernaturals Universe by Shannon Phoenix (that's me). You can find books and stories based in the Supernaturals Universe on my website. This story is written for those who have read and know about my series and know the basics of the Universe already. There won't be a lot of explanation about it.

What you might want to know are a few things: Vampires are "out". Gargoyles also "came out", but were killed to near extinction. Almost no other Supernatural races are known about, but there are a great many of them. So don't be surprised when the heroine is unsurprised by the presence of Vampires, as they're a known phenomenon. She expects gargoyles to be extinct, since they went into hiding.

Yes, I'm arrogant enough to ask that my books be added so I can put this here. I think you'll like it, and hell, it's free entertainment. Enjoy. :)

**Chapter 1**

**Introducing Kim**

Hi, I'm Kim, and I work at Lenny's Maccheroni Ristaurante in Wisteria, Maine. Don't try to doll the name up, it's just the Italian spelling of Macaroni. So yeah, I work at Lenny's Macaroni Restaurant. But I have to pretend I don't, and try to fancy the name up to mach-air-oni rist-er-ont-ay. The rest of the town gets to call it "Lenny's Macaroni". Lucky them.

I'm a waitress there, which wouldn't mean much of anything, provided you didn't know Lenny's deep, dark secret. Lenny's only real purpose here is to launder money. He's part of the mob. Not the Italian mafioso, or any of those well-known organizations, I don't think. He's part of the 'new mob'. These days, the mob operates on a world-wide basis. Cheecago? Who needs Cheecago... They can mob anywhere and everywhere now.

They're running drugs in Mexico and laundering the money here. I guess Italian restaurants work as well as taco joints.

I don't think they know that I know about that part of the business. If they think of me at all, besides to yell at me now and again, that is. Which is fine with me, I don't mind. I think I'll live longer if it stays that way. The funny thing is that they speak around me like I'm not even there. I'm furniture; a moving chair. You'd think they'd know better, but I've been here for eight years now, and I guess they've just gotten used to me.

As far as my personal life goes, it's pretty boring. I have a son. His father's dead, which is a good thing, because I think I was well on my way towards homicide, myself. The guy was a jerk. He sabotaged my birth control pills by giving me 'vitamins' which were really St. John's Wort. Note to all of you aspiring non-mothers out there; St. John's Wort plus the pill equals bad juju. If you're depressed and want some, you're probably too depressed to have a kid, anyway, so use condoms. So why did he do it, when it's usually the woman that does that? His mother wanted a grandkid. Great reasoning, if you ask me. Whiny little mama's boy.

Funny thing, that, though. Now I have an amazing relationship with his mom. Which is more than you can say for my own mom. I can't stand my own mother. She was everything I didn't want to be, the single mother that couldn't accept the inevitable.

What does that mean? It seems like people think that, as a single mother, I don't know what men say about us single mothers. Like they magically don't talk about how they hate us right in front of us. Trust me when I tell you, men aren't nice people in general. That's not to say that some aren't, but as a rule; men will say whatever the hell they want if they don't have the hots for you.

And there's the rub. I'm not pretty. I'm very average. I have an average job, live in a small town, and have average looks. Depending on who you ask, somewhere between average and below average intelligence... Yay me.

So yeah. I work at a ridiculous restaurant that somehow manages to remain barely afloat year after year. I have an average name, an average life, with average looks. The only part of my life that isn't average is Drake, my son. He's awesome. You can't hold his dad against him, it wasn't Drake's fault Jason was a prick.

Life was pretty simple for us for a while, but then the FBI or somebody got wind of Lenny's little side trade. I don't know how, so don't ask. I can't tell you what I don't know, and I'm not going to make something up. Alright, so how do I know?

I know because of Pete. Everyone else calls him 'Rolling Pin Pete' because he's the pastry chef. He's a really good pastry chef, and he's also an undercover cop of some sort. I'm not sure which branch, but I figured it out when his supposedly angry ex-wife never came around. Never saw his supposed two kids, either.

So one day he asked me out. I said yes. While we were out on the date, I oh-so-casually told him that people were starting to mutter about how suspicious it was that his ex never called, never showed up, never dropped his kids off at company picnics and stuff. Next bowl-a-ding-dong night, he had his kids. They kept calling him Pete. I helped him out, asking if his ex refused to let them call him 'dad'. Doesn't anyone teach these undercover cops anything?

Then when his ex showed up at the restaurant to chew him out, I reminded him on our next date that people who live together don't just argue about bringing the kids home late. They argue about stupid things mostly. Like how he leaves the seat up all the time and his disgusting habit of hocking loogies in the kitchen sink. He'll snarl about her disgusting habit of using her electric shaver over the countertop in the bathroom and not cleaning it all up.

After that, I politely told him we should quit dating, or it would look suspicious, and I wasn't getting killed for him. He really wasn't my type, and I obviously wasn't his, either. He tried to grill me for information, once he knew that I knew he was a cop, but I didn't know anything helpful. I know that they're laundering money, but mostly just from things said and suspicious actions. Not enough to make me a material witness or whatever it happens to be called. Thank god.

When Pete failed to get anything accomplished, they sent Evangeline. Everybody made Evangeline by the third day. A week later, we were all ignoring and avoiding her. She was a waitress like me, but she thought she was the Company Commander and we were all sailors under her command. She tried to act like she was some old-world Italian matriarch, but she failed completely. I didn't bother to tell her why she wasn't working out. A few times, I admit I almost hoped she'd learn something and Lenny would have her offed. Fine, I'm a bad person, but she is, too. I would call her a murdering tyrant, but I think Pol Pot would be offended to be grouped in with her.

Three months ago now, though, they finally got it right. This time, they sent in someone to be a so-called 'accountant' who's obviously really a muscle man. Michael is incredible. Nobody would ever mistake him for an accountant, though. He's muscle through-and-through.

Yes, he's built like a tank, but that's not what I mean. I mean he looks like the type who could go five rounds with Mohammed Ali and still come out looking fresh as a daisy. He's lean, but he's extremely muscular. He must run five miles every day and lift weights for another two hours. A lot of guys who do that, do it because they're pretty average otherwise. I don't blame them, it's just the truth of it. I'm average myself, so I'm not being disrespectful.

Not Michael, though. Michael's got the face of an underwear model. The body of Adonis and the face of an underwear model... to die for. If God decided to put all of the sun's heat in one bundle and drop it onto Earth, I think it'd look like Michael. He's just that freaking hot. Better than that, he's probably absolutely perfect for an undercover cop. Maybe they sent those other two in to draw attention off of Michael's arrival.

On the down side, not only is Michael a billion miles or two out of my league, he also hates me. I don't know what I ever did to him, but if looks could kill, he'd have had to bury me in the back yard the first day he arrived. My only suspicion is that Pete told him I'd made him and given him information, and Michael's afraid I'd make him like I did Pete.

The thing is, it's Michael's fault I made him a week or two after he started here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
Making Michael**

Before I explain how I made Michael, there's something else I suppose you should know. Wisteria isn't very far away from Bangor. Now, Bangor has something like four colleges. Three community type ones, and one theology college; as far as I know. A fair number of college students live here instead of Bangor, because the cost of living is lower here. There's a continual turnaround of college girls as waitresses, and college guys as busboys, dishwashers, and short order cooks. After a while, they all start looking alike, pretty much.

I wasn't very happy after Michael arrived. These pretty little waitress bumpkins all wanted to leave before Michael did, so they rushed through their sidework and even left a lot of it to me. For those that don't know, sidework is all the residual after-hours cleanup that we waitresses have to do.

That's how it happened that I was out in back of the restaurant when Pete walked one of the waitresses, Tammy, out to her car... I was taking out the trash from Tammy's section because it would be my section the next day.

She had pretended to gush all over poor Pete as he walked her out the door in (vain) hope of making Michael jealous, but as soon as she got in the parking lot, it was back to mouthy little sow, "I got it from here, Pete. Don't let the door hit ya."

Granted, I'm not crazy about Pete, but at least treat the guy like a human being. Never mind, what am I thinking, it's one of the little community college girls. Sometimes you get a nice one, but even those seem to flirt outrageously and then be deeply offended when the man they're flirting with gets the understandably wrong idea that she was, oh, I dunno... flirting with him.

So that night, Tammy drives away and I finish unloading my cartload of trash-it wasn't just Tammy's trash, it was mine and the common areas', too. I was just about to go around the corner when I hear Michael's voice. It's not real deep, but it's very distinctive, with hints of accent that I can't quite place. I'm typically excellent at placing accents.

"You can't quit yet, Amos." I just stood there and basked in Michael's voice-not that I'd admit it to anybody.

"I can't stand it here," came Pete's voice. "I've got to get out."

I raised my brows in surprise, even though they couldn't see me. Pete's real name is Amos? I don't know if that's retardedly dorky or kind of cool.

"I need you here. If you leave, they'll know you've been replaced and start looking."

"They know Evangel-"

Michael cut him off with some hard truth, "They knew she wasn't legit before she even walked in the door. They let her in on purpose."

"A month. I'll give you a month."

"Six weeks," Michael sallied back.

I won't repeat the next few words that came out of Pete's mouth at that point. Or should I say Amos' mouth? Well, either way, I'm not repeating them. My mom's not perfect and we don't get along, but she did teach me to watch my language. It has worked to some degree, although you might hear an f-bomb or two if I, say, stub my toe. But the long and the short of it is that Amos agreed to stay on as Rolling Pin Pete for six weeks.

Without overhearing that conversation, I would never have known the two had anything remotely in common.

Amos' car rolled away-he'd never seemed much like a Pete to me, anyway-and I stood there considering my options. I had my keys on me, so I finally decided to head home. The only thing I hadn't done was refill the condiments on the tables. My station from that night would rotate to Jynyfyr-with three y's, and don't ever spell it wrong-who had left me with all the condiments to refill at shift beginning the week before. Her and Tammy were tighter than two sausages in a pancake. Poetic justice, I figured.

So rather than go inside and alert Michael that I might have heard his conversation, I simply pushed the trash trolley back into place, hopped in my car, and headed home. Technically speaking, Lenny would have been upset to know I hadn't been walked to my car, but Lenny didn't need to know.

Which is sort of the funny thing about Lenny and his cronies. They always fuss about the safety of the waitresses, as if they weren't the most dangerous men in town. Ironic, isn't it?

Anyway, that was a couple of months ago, so by the time this little thing between us started, I'd known for a while that Michael's a cop of some sort. I'd never asked who he works for, for obvious reasons. But it's got to be one of the letter agencies, because our local police department has an annual budget of about five grand per year. They do bake sales to pay their utilities or when they need repairs on the squad cars-which is several times per year these days. Clearly, they couldn't afford to hire a private detective, much less a guy like Michael.

Upon my honor, it was the trash that got me in trouble again the next time and landed me in my current predicament. I had just brought out an overflowing bag of of it when Tom and Brekken came out of the door. Don't ask me, I have no idea what kind of name Brekken is. I ignored them as I usually do, pushing the drooping bag back into the dumpster, protected from their prying eyes by the privacy fence intended to keep the parking area pretty for customers.

"Make sure the lakeside of Pushaw is guarded tonight. One of Lenny's contacts will be coming in that way." Pushaw, by the way, is a large lake in a nearby town.

Brekken got in his car and took off after he said it, but I could hear Tom taking deep drags to finish his cheroot. I stayed hidden because I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear that.

By the way, I can't understand smokers. I was standing there in the early November night shivering my ass off. Who would be out here on purpose except smokers?

An hour later when I'd taken out the night's trash for closing, I heard the door open and was about to step out when I heard Michael's voice again, "Night Lenny. I'm calling it a day."

"See ya, man," Lenny's voice replied from the bowels of the kitchen before the door shut.

The door closed and I waited for Michael to get into his old muscle car and drive away. Instead, I heard him dialing numbers on a cell phone.

"I need you to let H.Q. know that I'm going to Lenny's Pushaw property tonight. He's having some kind of meeting that I'm not invited to. I'm going to come up on the lake side since they won't be watching it."

I naturally assumed his HQ reference meant headquarters. That wasn't what bothered me about the whole thing. They'd said earlier that they'd specifically be watching the lake side. Pushaw hadn't frozen yet, but it was cold enough already this year to bring on death quickly if you fell into it and didn't get warmed up right away.

My conscience stabbed by the fact that they'd be watching the very place he intended to come in from, I started to head around the dumpster fence. As I did so, Lenny walked out with a couple of his goons. They said good-bye to Michael and then everyone drove away. I'd hoped Michael stayed, but I heard his vintage muscle car revving up and pulling out.

Well, at this point, I decided two things: first, I'm not taking the trash out alone anymore; and second, none of this was any of my business. After all, Michael's a big boy, right? He can handle himself. He's been fine so far. I went inside and headed out to my second home-my mother-in-law Helen's house. I'd sleep there and take Drake home in the morning. It was our routine, and we all three loved it.

But when I got close to home, I decided to call Helen. "I've got some things to do tonight. Would you please watch over Drake? I'll be back before morning." At least, I hoped I would. I drove home and got dressed for a night out.

Not a night out on the town, but rather a night out in the frigid cold. I know where Lenny's lake house is because he's had an employee party or two there over the years. I also knew the best way to sneak in from if you were coming up the waterline, too.

You could only approach from one side. The other side had a high fence along it and a steep incline. If you came from that direction, you'd have to go in through the water. So I got dressed, parked along a deserted driveway up the road, and hiked towards Lenny's lake house.

All I was going to do was wait for Michael and warn him. I didn't have any grand plans to try to save the day or be heroic. I was just going to wait for him and say, "They're watching the water tonight. Might not want to get caught."

I know. It was stupid and impetuous, and if I didn't have the worst crush in recorded history, I doubt I would have done it. But the mental picture of Michael in concrete boots at the bottom of the lake, all frozen in midwinter, had me acting stupid. Don't worry, I paid for it. Oh boy, did I pay for it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Pushaw Property**

That's how I found myself standing at the lake, waiting for Michael to show up. One of Lenny's night guards is a vampire, so I knew I had to keep pretty quiet. They have inhuman hearing, so you can't just run around and expect to get away with it.

Snow had fallen enough to cover the ground and stick, to make matters that much worse for me, too. I really hate the snow, and I'd move away if I wasn't just a waitress in a podunk nowhere town. I couldn't afford to move, and I couldn't take Drake away from Helen, either. Those two are tighter than twine.

About the time I decided that this was the dumbest damned thing I'd ever done and started digging in my pocket for my keys, I heard Michael's angry voice in my ear.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.

I barely managed not to scream at the top of my lungs. The guy can seriously sneak up on a person.

I spun around to face him. "I came to warn you, if you must know." I kept my voice as low as his, but I had my arms on my hips, scowling.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You have got to learn to mind your own business."

"You're welcome," I snarked at him, pushing past him.

He grabbed my arm, stopping me. "You can't go that way." He thrust his chin as if pointing. "One of Lenny's men is up there."

"Great. Just great." I know it wasn't fair, but I rather blamed Michael. If he had shown up on time, I wouldn't be in this predicament.

"Damn it." He grabbed my arm and jerked me down to a crouch, dragging me after him as he headed towards Lenny's docks, which were near where we were by this point.

I tugged back on my arm to hiss at him, "They're watching the water line, too. I heard them say so. That's why I'm here."

He pulled me behind a tree, keeping us both crouched down. He looked on each side of the tree. "We're surrounded. If they catch us here, they'll kill us." He was whispering now. "We have to go out to the end of the dock."

At the end of Lenny's dock was a small ice hut that was obviously waiting for the freeze. The boat house was little more than an awning, really. There weren't a lot of places to hide there.

"The neighbor's house." I kept my voice to a whisper also. I'm not a complete idiot, you know. "They have a covered boat shed."

He nodded and we crept from tree to tree until we were at the edge of the lawn. Then he rushed me down towards their dock, where there was at least cover from the snow, although it had now slowed to next to nothing. They'd left a fishing dock tethered to their bigger dock. It bobbed, clunking gently against the dock, water sloshing between them loudly.

He moved me along towards the small shed beside the dock, his eyes scanning constantly up the small cliff-like escarpment that made up the edge of the property between us and the house above us. He held my arm, his hand seeping heat into me despite layers of clothing between us.

We were nearly there, drawing alongside the fishing dock that was now banging against the larger dock as a gust of wind stirred the water.

Of course, though, nothing could go right for us right then. It was inevitable that Helen called me right at that moment, her distinctive ring tone merrily filling the air. I yanked the phone out of my coat pocket and fumbled it for less than a fraction of a second. I intended to mute it, but Michael's arm shot out and it was plucked out of my hand.

I had no time to react before he literally crushed it with one hand. It squawked in protest before dying, and I know my jaw was hanging like it had come unhinged. He broke my phone. Pulverized it, more like it. With. One. Hand.

Don't roll your eyes; I'm not kidding and I'm not lying. He completely annihilated my phone as easily as Drake crushing a peanut butter sandwich into the carpet.

I thought to protest. Helen had Drake, and she wouldn't call me unless it was important. Before I could, though, rocks crunched on the ridge above us.

I panicked, but Michael didn't. He grabbed me and then we were under the surface of the water. I was dragged-quite unwillingly, might I add-under the fishing dock. A fishing dock is just a wooden platform, like a raft, with bumpers on it to make it float. There's room under it where you can stick your head, but you have to turn slightly to be able to get your breath.

That's where we came up, and with our faces crammed up in there, he shushed me when I tried to catch my breath. I glared at him. Who did he think he was, anyway? I had forgotten our situation in my shock, and I opened my mouth to berate him. He deserved it, after all.

His hand closed over my mouth, his eyes boring into mine like two red coals. It was downright creepy how I could see his eyes. They almost looked like there was orange inside his pupils. And his hand was so hot it bordered on pain where it covered my mouth. The poor guy obviously had a fever.

"Did you hear something?" The voice reverberated strangely through the boards of the mini dock as one of Lenny's henchmen questioned another just a few feet up from us.

"I thought I did." The second voice sounded distorted slightly, and I realized it was because the guy had fangs-the vampire.

I shivered, and not only from the cold.

"There's nothing there." The other voice sounded quite human-and disgruntled.

"Stay up here where you can watch the dock. I don't want any surprises from over here."

"Whatever." There was the sound of flesh striking flesh. "Fine, damn. I didn't say I wouldn't."

Now Michael looked furious. His eyes hadn't left mine the entire time. He eased his hand down off of my face, pulling me closer to him. He tilted my head slightly until he could whisper right in my ear. "One of them is a vampire. I'm going to untie this and we're going to float away. You will have to be as silent as you can, or that vamp will hear us."

"Okay," I whispered. "But we don't have much time before we die from the cold water." I was already getting numb in my feet, and I was shivering so hard I could barely keep my feet on the slippery ground.

"Just hold on and stay with the dock. I'll be back."

He let go of me, and I realized that we'd been lucky. We'd been standing in a patch of warmer water. When he left, the heat seemed to go with him so that even colder water seeped in to replace it. I shivered harder and clung to the raft for dear life.

A second later, my feet left the ground and I fought not to panic. The mini raft began to drift away from the shore, and I felt it when the slow current gripped it. We were loose from our moorings and drifting away... right towards Lenny's dock.

It's times like this when, too late, you take stock of your life. As everything that was about to happen played through my mind, I got it. I really, truly, deeply got it. I should never have done this. It wasn't my business.

My son would grow up without a father or a mother, and I had done that to him. This was my fault. Michael might have died tonight, that was true. But now that we'd gotten into that water and had no way to get out of it, and were headed straight for Lenny's dock-the bumping of the fishing dock into the larger dock would no doubt draw attention-he would die for sure.

I've never been very ambitious. I've never had much interest in doing anything except perhaps some day going to night school and maybe getting a nursing degree or something. Something that might get me more money than I make now...

At the same time, I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. I don't want my son to go through life without his parents. My mind played over the scene of poor Helen having to tell my sweet baby that his mommy was dead now, too, and I realized I was crying. I fought not to sob or make any noises, dangling there in the water and holding on as my legs and arms grew increasingly numb.

They'd find me in the spring, dragged off somewhere by the current when I finally let go. My mom would have to identify my decimated corpse. They'd all have to go to a wake or something, and it would open the wounds all over again.

Fine, I got downright maudlin. I was dying, cut me some slack. I wanted to hold my baby one more time. Just once. I wanted to feel his sweet little arms around me and breathe in that little kid smell. You know the one. Peanut butter, dirt, and dryer sheets.

A few minutes later, I realized that my gloves had frozen to the raft. How much time had passed? And how much time did I have left? Was Michael already dead?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**The Raft**

Hard arms dragged me under and then out of the water, leaving my frozen gloves behind. I belatedly realized that they'd frozen because they were wet, and I'd grabbed onto a piece of metal. Maybe I wasn't dead yet, but I sure felt like it when my head was jerked under the water-if death was pain and frigid misery, that is.

The next thing I knew, I was shoved hard up onto the top of the floating fishing dock. Michael crawled up beside me, steam rising off of him like a cloud. Unlike me, who lay there sluicing water like a dog being shaved at the pet parlor.

All of that was fine. It was great. Maybe, just maybe, now that I was out of the water, I had a prayer of survival. Except that my wet clothes weren't getting any warmer-or any lighter. That wasn't good, and somewhere in my befuddled mind, I knew it. Despite that, when Michael started to pull my clothes off, I still protested; visions of rape and mayhem flashing through my mind like a freight train crossing a busy road and shoving all the cars out of the way to forge its own passage.

"Stop it, Kim. If we don't get these off, you'll die. You may already have frostbite."

Now I had visions of amputated, black feet rolling through my head. So I let him strip me until I was curled up in a tiny little ball, shivering and clattering my teeth together like castanets tied to a Jack Russel Terrier's tail.

A few seconds later, I realized that he was stripping, too. That, my friend, was a sight to behold. Even lying there near death, it was hard not to stare. The guy is just ripped; absolutely torn up. Muscles everywhere, and if the man has an ounce of fat on him, you couldn't prove it by me.

I was dying, why not enjoy it? Unfortunately, I didn't get more than a few seconds of ogle time before reality reinserted itself into my brain in the form of a wave that crashed over the side of the dock and splashed me with tiny droplets of water. In my naked state, that was enough to feel like little spikes and I think I whimpered at the pain. That water was barely above freezing, and so was I.

Michael lay down next to me, shushing me. "It's okay, honey. You're going to be okay."

And here's how stupid, pathetic, and desperate I am. I was going to die happy, because the hottest man I'd ever met had just called me 'honey'. Ahhhh... bliss.

He wrapped his arms around me, and I swear to you, as God is my witness, he was soooo warm. Heat seeped into me from him, making the side he wasn't lying against feel that much more cold. I found myself curling into him, trying to get as much of my body against as much of his as possible, while my teeth continued to clatter loudly.

"There you go." His voice was soothing and low, not his usual snarl when talking to me. "Good girl." He pulled me closer, adjusting us so that our bodies were locked together tightly-not as tightly as I'd daydreamed, mind you, but tightly.

He put his hand on the side of my head and it was hot, almost painfully hot.

"Y-y-y-you're so warm." It came out a shivery whisper, cut up by the shivers that continued to wrack my body.

He chuckled at me. It was a surprising sound; I realized I'd never heard him laugh before. "Some people tell me that I'm like a furnace."

I could see why. His body, pressed against my back as he spooned me, radiated heat that bordered on pain. The arm he had wrapped around my belly was just as hot. "You're m-m-m-more like an inferno."

He grew so still that for a moment, I feared I'd said something wrong without meaning to. This, my friend, is why I don't date. Well, part of why. I say stupid things and never know why they were stupid. Even after the fact.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked after a few heartbeats.

"N-n-n-no." I finally managed to spit the word out between teeth I simply couldn't still. "Feels nice." I said the last words as fast as I could, so that they came out almost as a single one.

He ran his hand down my belly and along my thigh. It was so warm that it left a burning path where it went, and after a minute or so, I started steaming, too, my skin far warmer than the air around us. Minutes ticked by, and my teeth quit chattering so hard. I actually started sweating where his body was pressed against mine.

"Micheal." I tried to turn my head so that I could look into his eyes, but the strong hand on my head stopped me. Not in time, though. His eyes had that look again; that look like there was something inside his pupils.

He shushed me, but I ignored him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You're still in danger, Kim. I can't keep all of you warm." He turned me towards him, and his eyes were clear, honey hazel again with wide black pupils.

He pulled me close, wrapping my leg over his thigh and pillowing our heads together on his arm. We were inches from each others' faces. My heart started to hammer as I stared into his gorgeous face. He looked young to me, probably a few years younger than me, which made it feel rather wrong to be thinking the way I was now thinking. Especially with my ass poking out into the frigid air and feeling somewhat like it was about to be frozen off.

"You shouldn't have come, Kim." He sounded stern, but his hand pushed my hair back gently, almost a caress.

A girl can daydream.

"I know. I was just trying to help, but it was a stupid thing to do."

"How did you know I would be here?" I heard the other questions he didn't voice. How I knew what he was, and why he was coming to Lenny's tonight.

"Well, I've been meaning to tell you. You really shouldn't have such private conversations out in the parking lot. I've overheard so much just standing in the trash enclosure, you wouldn't believe it. You'd think that someone would have the sense to check it before blabbing all of their secrets."

He stared at me, blinking those perfect hazel eyes. I've never seen eyes like that. They really looked like honey, and they even seemed to swirl like that sweet elixir does when it's slow-stirred.

"Why do you hate me?" I know, brave, huh? Or stupid.

In typical man fashion, he answered my question-it was clearly a question, wasn't it?-with another question, "Why do you work for a criminal, especially since you know he's a criminal?"

I shrugged, which was a mistake, because it made my breast move against him, which made my mouth water. I was already hyper aware of him, but that motion made me almost feel crazed. To make matters worse, I felt his body react, too; solid evidence rising between us.

"He was the only one that would give me a job. I have to choose between paying my bills or starving so I can refuse to work for a criminal. I have a son to take care of; I'm picking my bills."

His hand was smoothing my hair away from my head, and I realized it was almost dry already, which was obviously impossible. His eyes held mine, and the stroking of my hair combined with that made me feel slightly giddy.

"I don't hate you. You're hard working, you're courageous, you're loyal. You run the floor of that restaurant with surprising diplomacy. You're also responsible, except when it comes to sticking your nose into other people's business." He said the last with a slightly quirky grin that melted my heart.

I was guilty of the last for sure; I'm not sure who he was saying the rest about, but she sounded pretty cool. "I don't run the floor."

"Oh honey, you run that floor like nobody's business."

Yep, he called me 'honey' again, and I wasn't even dying this time. But he still had me confused with someone else. "You don't know what you're talking abo-"

His fingers had left my hair and were now tracing across my lips, cutting me off mid-sentence. "False modesty isn't attractive, Kim."

What a jerk! I scowled at him. "It's not-"

He cut me off again, but not with his fingers. His lips touched mine, his hot and sleek-mine surprised and fascinated. It was a light kiss, his tongue tracing first one lip and then the other. When I kissed him back-because, hello, it was Michael, and it wasn't like I'd have another chance to be kissed by him and still be able to pretend that I was half out of my mind when I did it-his hand buried into my hair and pulled me closer against him.

He deepened the kiss and then rolled me over so that I was under his glorious, naked, hot body. The wood under me was warmed from us lying on it together, and his body over me was all heat and magic. I felt the warmest I had since being shoved under the water, but I barely noticed it, because the epicenter of my focus was Michael.

Alas, here my story ends, for I had died, and I was now in heaven. Sweet blissful ecstasy was mine for eternity.

That is until it was interrupted by catcalls. "Nice ass!" and other such comments that I won't relate here.

So much for heaven. I guess I was very much alive, and Michael was being ribbed by a bunch of guys on a boat floating only a couple of feet from us. I'd never even noticed them approaching.

Michael shifted away from me. "Throw us a damned blanket already, and have some gods-damned manners, you apes."

One of the guys cursed, apparently surprised to see my head under Michael's. I guess they thought Michael had four arms and four legs... idiots. But a moment later, to my relief, a gray wool blanket was ripped from a package and thrown onto Michael. And, by extension, onto me, because I felt it land, and it was strangely sexy to feel the impact through another person's body.

It wasn't until Michael got up, carefully wrapping me in the blanket so no one would see my nudity, that I realized how much I had missed the feeling of a man's skin against my own. I felt empty and lonely without his touch, and cold without his extraordinary heat.

He helped me up onto the boat, which was surprisingly huge. It even had a cabin. It definitely should have been out of the water by this point in the year. I felt him swing up behind me. One of the other guys was leading me towards the cabin, but stopped to look back.

"How are you?" a different one of them asked. He was tall, with dark hair. He looked enigmatic, and I found him unsettling. I didn't realize I was staring at him until I heard Michael's voice behind us.

"Hungry." It sounded guttural, Michael's voice rough and snarly.

A shift took place in the men around me. All of them seemed to stiffen slightly, and several took a step back; including the guy holding my arm to escort me into the cabin.

I glanced back and saw that Michael's eyes were glowing. I also realized that these men knew him and were afraid of him. I don't know if he saw me look back or not, but I admit that I didn't dawdle when I followed my guide into the inside of the boat. The tension in the men around me was a dense fog that curled in around me with near physical presence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
Meet the Ifrit**

I sat inside the cabin, wrapped in the blanket, and considered everything that had happened. I should be dead. I knew enough to know for a fact that Michael was behind that miracle, but what I didn't know, was why? And better yet, how?

I tried in vain to get myself covered more thoroughly by the blanket. I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, yet the cold kept me awake. At that moment, I would have killed-or died-for a little of Michael's heat. Get your mind out of the gutter. I meant his literal body heat!

I'm not sure how long I sat there in that drafty, cold boat cabin before Michael walked in. He came over and sat behind me, pulling me against him. Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about. He was so warm.

"Kim." It wasn't until his voice woke me that I realized I'd dozed off almost immediately.

I jerked away, sitting up. The tall, creepy guy was standing there staring at me with this brooding, arrogant look that I immediately hated.

Michael gestured at him. "This is Tallis. He's going to help you forget."

Tallis' mouth opened, and he bared fangs at me.

"Oh no." I raised my hand and wagged my finger at him. "You stay away from me. I won't say anything about anything." I dared to look away from the scary vampire at Michael. "I wouldn't even talk if they tortured me, I swear."

What he said next chilled me to the very depths of my soul. I've never heard anything that terrified me more. If you don't have a child, you won't understand. If you do have a child... well. Nothing more needs be said. I thought I understood before I had Drake, but now... you're not prepared for the reality of it.

"You'd talk if they tortured your son."

I gawped at him for a moment, terror flowing through me.

I looked back at the vampire. He suddenly looked like my long lost best friend. "Do it." He started towards me, but I held up a finger. "Just a second." I looked back at Michael. "What will I remember?"

"You'll remember wanting to come here, but going home and falling asleep, instead. You'll remember being way too tired to do it, and you'll remember realizing it was a terrible idea to begin with."

That seemed fair enough. Tallis moved towards me again. I raised my hand again, and he looked impatient and irritated. I guess being undead doesn't improve your temperament any. I took a few deep breaths and contemplated my situation.

"Everything will go back to the way it was? You scowling at me from the doorway and barely saying 'boo' to me?"

Michael brushed a bit of my hair back off of my face. "I'm sorry, Kim. That's the way it has to be."

That's what I thought he'd say. It made the most sense. But damn, if I didn't want to savor this night for just another minute or two. Maybe more. I turned until we were looking at each other, and ignored the guy across the room shooting fire at me from his eyes. He could wait.

"Thank you for saving me." I rested my hand on his cheek. When would I get another chance? Never, that's when. "Will you tell me what you are?"

His lip quirked into a slight grin. "I'm just a guy."

I sighed. "You're such a liar. Well, whatever you are, you saved me. If I could remember it, I would appreciate it all my life. But mostly, thank you for making sure that my son didn't lose his mother tonight." My chest felt tight as I said it.

He pulled me closer to him in hug. I didn't let it go at that. You only live once, and I'd never remember doing this, so I took the chance. As he pulled me tighter against him, I turned my face to his and I kissed him.

And what a kiss, my god. He grabbed my head and held me close as he kissed me like he was trying to get inside my very soul. It was to be our last kiss, and it seemed like he wanted to imprint me on himself forever. I wished he could. I'd seen a side to him that night that I had imagined he had, but not seen evidence of before.

Now I was about to lose it for good, and I kissed him back with everything in me. I wanted to stay in that moment forever. I didn't care what he was then, I just wanted to tell him how much that one night meant to me.

A cough from the vampire-a not-very-polite, pointed cough, that is-made Michael slowly pull away from me. He pressed his forehead against mine and our panting breaths intermingled between us, we were so close. After a moment, he replaced his forehead with his lips, kissing me there instead.

"Do it." He was talking to the vampire, even though his eyes held mine.

The creepy vampire walked over to me and turned my face towards his, holding my head steady. His pupils expanded and the iris started to burn like fire. I started and tried to look at Michael. Was that what I'd seen in his eyes? But I'd seen Michael during the day many times. He couldn't be a vampire, could he? Now I cursed myself for not learning more about vampires.

"Kim." I looked back at Tallis. "You will forget everything that happened tonight since you dropped your son off at the sitter's house. You will remember going home and thinking coming to Pushaw was a terrible idea."

He let go of me and I turned to Michael. "That's it? I don't feel any different."

"Well, we're not at your house yet. Maybe it will kick in then."

"No. She should be enthralled right now. Something's wrong."

"Well, that's just great. I just made an ass of myself because you promised I wouldn't remember it." I was quite irritated, myself. What a lousy vampire! I've read a vampire novel or two, so I do know the older ones are stronger. "Maybe we need an older vampire."

He gave me a look that could turn anti-freeze to ice. "I am the eldest on the continent."

"Pardon me all over the place." Touchy, touchy. Apparently insulting a vampire's age is kind of like insulting a human man's privates, only worse. Who knew?

I suddenly had the good sense to think I shouldn't have said that when he vanished from one side of the room and appeared in front of me, with only a tiny blur between to warn me. I couldn't even have flinched in the fraction of a nanosecond it took him to get to me. Personally, I think he was showing off just a little.

So there he is in front of me, and I'm sitting there with my heart trying to run away from me. Sweat breaks out across my forehead as panic sets in. All he did, though, was reach down and pull the blanket away from my cleavage and start sniffing me like a dog.

For the first time that night, I made the smart choice; I sat still and didn't say what I thought. I was going to ask him if he was part werewolf now and that, if so, my crotch was a little ways south. Hey, in my defense, I didn't know at the time that werewolves are real and that there were five of them on the boat, ok?

He jerked back away from me, holding the blanket open. "Syragh." It sounded kind of like 'ser-off'.

"What?" Michael sounded outraged. His arms tightened around me as if to protect me, and he immediately became so hot that I yelped.

Something was definitely not right about Michael.

The burning heat subsided, but this time when I glanced at him, his eyes were glowing and he didn't even try to hide it.

The vampire scowled at him. "Not her. A syragh has sealed her against my persuasion."

"What?" Michael sounded surprised again, but this time without the outrage. He held his hand up in front of me, four inches [ten cm] or so from my chest. In a circle on my chest, glyphs appeared. They looked a bit like Egyptian hieroglyphics to me-granted, I'm not even a lay person, so who knows what language they actually were.

Okay, I know who knew... Tallis and Michael. But they didn't tell me what language it was, they just stared at my chest like they'd both seen ghosts. How very progressive and modern of them...

I cleared my throat, hoping to draw eyes back to mine. At that point, I would have even accepted Tallis' cold, unfriendly ones. Both remained stolidly gawping at my chest, however. So I pulled the blanket back over it, glaring.

"Can you remove it?" Tallis asked Michael.

He shook his head. "I doubt it. Goblins, probably. Though it will take several at least."

"That's going to cost you."

"Goblins?" I couldn't help it, I started laughing. Were they serious with that? Goblins? "Pull my other one, will ya?" My grandfather used to say that. It seemed to fit the situation.

The vampire pulled a cellphone out of his pocket. "Call your work and whomever you need to. Tell them you're sick and you'll be gone a day or two."

I crossed my arms. "No."

I think a muscle ticked under his eye, but otherwise, he just stared. "Yes."

I raised my eyebrows. "No."

Michael interrupted before the idiot vampire could say, 'yes' again like he thought repeating it ad nauseum would change my mind. "Kim, you need to do this. We can't let you go back until you've forgotten. If we can't help you forget, we'll have to relocate you."

On the bright side, he hadn't said he'd kill me. That was something, right?

"I can't relocate. I can't afford it, and even if I could, I have a life here. My son, my mother-in-law. My job. I know it's not great, but I like my job. I have a lot of regulars who won't sit in any section but mine. And they're amazing tippers."

"I'm not relocating her." Thank you, peanut gallery vampire. Here's your golf clap.

"I will."

The vampire looked, in a word, skeptical. Only that would be a very mild word for the incredulous, borderline outraged look on his face. "You?"

Michael shrugged. "It would be a minor expense." It sounded almost like he was making excuses. "I won't kill a kid just because I can't undo a syragh spell."

I glared at him, ignoring the vampire for the moment. "You're still not going to tell me what you are, are you?" Beside Mr. Moneybags. Apparently moving me, getting me an apartment, and everything else would be 'a minor expense'. Life as an undercover cop must pay better in real life than it does in the movies.

He looked at me like he was thinking about it. Finally, he shrugged. "If I do, will you call and say you'll be gone for a couple of days?"

"Will I ever come back?" I was serious. There was a nasty vampire and an I-don't-know-what that I'd been kissing in the room. It made trust just a tad bit hard to come by, you know what I mean?

He hugged me again. This time it felt more like a promise, and it eased something inside me that I hadn't realized had become coiled tight and filled with fear.

"I'll relocate your whole family if that's what it comes down to. Okay? I promise. I can't do anything about the job, but you'll be safer away from Lenny, and you can go to school or something. Find something that pays more."

"Fine. So what are you?"

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Ifrit."

Well, I suppose that made sense, but my mind still struggled with it. He seemed awful nice for an ifrit. "Like... a fire demon?" I had to be sure that we were talking about the same thing. Because he seemed sort of normal to me before all of this.

That cooled him off. His face closed off and he sounded terse as he replied, "Elemental, not demon."

"I'm sorry. That's the way I've always heard stories of ifrits."

"Ifriti."

I blinked stupidly at him.

"The plural of ifrit is ifriti, not ifrits."

Yay, English lessons. Or Arabic lessons, whatever. I wasn't about to ask where Ifriti-nor ifrits-actually come from. "Sorry."

I was surprised when his face softened again and he kissed me on the temple. "It's okay, Kim. My race has been lied about through the ages, because humans fear us."

Reading books and watching movies, I always felt like that kind of comment was sort of sexy. Sitting there, on a cold boat that stank of fish and lake water, it didn't have quite the same ring to it. It's one thing to fantasize about being with a werewolf or a shifter or a vampire or the like. Sitting there, even with his warm body pressed against mine and everything in my own body wanting to climb him like a ladder until I found a good spot to sit-use your imagination-I was still apprehensive. My body didn't get it, but my mind did.

Michael isn't human. It isn't just race. We humans, we have racism and we fight like dogs amongst ourselves, but Michael isn't even the same species as us. He's not in the same filum or category or whatever.

Dammit, I like him. I really, really _like_ him. Like daydream about the picket fence, the two-point-five kids, and the big labrador in the yard kind of like.

He looks human. He looks splendidly, perfectly, absolutely human. It's okay to think and fantasize about, but what are the true moral implications of being with him? Even if no one else would ever know, I would know. What about our kids? If we had kids, would they be like him, or like me? Human, or Ifrit?

Then I realized I was putting the cart way before the horse. A kiss doesn't make a marriage.

A cellphone appeared in front of my confused, stunned face. Accepting it, I called off of work for a couple of days, saying I was sick. It was my first sick day in two years, so Lenny actually got on the phone and fawned on me a little. Freaky.

Then I had the more delicate task of asking Helen to watch Drake for a couple of days. That one was hard, because I didn't want to be away from Drake for a couple of days. I had never been away from him for that long.

I got none of the expected harassment from Helen. I expected to get the third degree. Instead, she sounded concerned about me being sick, but pleased to get to keep Drake for a couple of days. Her parting shot was, in fact, "I was wondering if you were ever going to let me keep him for a few days. Do you mind if we go to Santaville?"

Santaville is a Christmas themed amusement park in New Hampshire, the neighboring state. Grinning, I said, "Go ahead. Oh, by the way, I left my cell somewhere last night, but I think someone found it or it got thrown away, because I haven't been able to get it back. I'll get a new one and call you as soon as I can."

I have to admit that I was surprised that even that seemed to raise no alarms for her. She just told me that I should call and have the phone shut off, in case someone was using it. I didn't bother to tell her that, unless they were a mermaid who could repair phones, that wasn't possible.

She had called, she said, because she'd wanted to know if Drake could have an ice cream before bed. Since I hadn't answered, she'd given it to him. Did I know, by the way, that he was having trouble getting to sleep?

Uh... right. Only when he gets ice cream before bed. Sugar high, anyone?

When she was done, I told her no more treats before bed, he should have them at dinnertime. Then I hung up and turned to my erstwhile captors. "So now what?"

"Now, we go see a goblin about a spell." Tallis is the most deadpan person I've ever seen.

Come to find out, he wasn't kidding.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Goblins. No, Really**

They took me to my house, where I was allowed to go inside and pack an overnight bag. Michael came with me, but before we left, he dropped the bomb on my head. "I'm not going with you. I have to be seen at work when you're not there. It's the only way to keep suspicion off of you if any ever arises."

"You're leaving me with him?" And by 'him', of course, I meant the nasty mean vampire out in the car. No doubt he was sitting there pondering whether eating me would be preferable to taking me to the goblins.

Or perhaps feeding me to the boogeyman.

Okay, fine. I can accept that vampires exist. I can even-sort of-accept that maybe Ifriti exist. But goblins? Really? I just... I couldn't buy it. Little green men are from Mars-and only in books, at that. And now, not only was I to meet "goblins", but I had to do it alone with the musclebound, fangy jerk. My absurd fantasy that Michael didn't hate me after all went flying out the window.

Then I was ready. I couldn't put it off a minute longer-though I wanted to put it off forever. We drove to another house, and Michael kissed me on the forehead. I kinda melted a little bit, even though by this point I'd worked myself up into a bit of a snit towards him. He said something in another language to the vampire, and then he headed into the house with one more hot, sexy hug.

"I can't believe I'm playing carriage to some Ifrit's lay."

Did I mention that I absolutely hated that vampire? Because I absolutely hated that vampire already. Seriously. I really just want to beat him senseless. Hopefully before he eats me. I wonder if anyone has ever liked that guy. He was probably a troll before he was turned. Hey, there are goblins, maybe there are trolls, too.

He smirked at me, almost like he could read my mind. "Ready?"

"Sure, I guess." I started for the car, and he grabbed me. I dropped the bag I was holding, and he grabbed that, too.

Laughing, he told me, "Hold on tight, little girl." Sadistic, twisted maniac.

I was going to object to being called a little girl, but right about then, he started running. Apparently, everyone had forgotten to tell me that we weren't traveling by car, but rather by racer-vamp. By the time we arrived in a dark, dank cave, my eyes were squeezed shut and rolling, my heart was hammering like a runaway yeti, and I think I had drooled on myself in terror-good thing vamp speed dries everything out from wind sheer, I guess.

He dropped me in a terrified puddle on the floor and started yelling. No, I didn't pay attention, I was trying to keep the contents of my stomach inside my stomach. A few minutes later, sure enough, a little green troll-like guy appeared in front of me, squatting awkwardly and staring at me like I was the strange sight.

Then, he reached out and grabbed my shirt, spreading it open. For a girl who's a card-carrying member of the itty bitty titty committee, my chest was getting a hell of a lot of gawking these days.

He also ran his hand above my chest like Michael had done.

"Syragh." Again it sounded like 'ser-off'.

"We know that. Can you remove it?"

The goblin stood up. "No. Too powerful. Too ancient. This is the mark of an elder Syragh. You might even be dealing with the Progenitor."

Now, I'm not sure what a Progenitor is, but the look on Tallis' face made me want to laugh out loud. At least something could faze the jerk. On the other hand, something that could make an old vamp like him twig out had to be someone extremely powerful.

"So we can't kill her, either."

"The syragh will find her corpse and know who killed her if you do. It's woven into the spell. There are a number of things woven into this spell. It's one of the most complex I've ever seen, and it took a great sacrifice to complete it." The goblin stood up. "I am not going to have anything to do with killing her. You have an elder syragh and a powerful ifrit standing against you. We cannot afford to interfere."

Tallis stepped towards him, and I sat up, easing away from them both. I didn't think this particular vamp would take a 'no can do' well.

"Are you telling me that you can remove it, but you won't, because of who put it there? The ifrit will be on your side if you remove it, as will I. Do you want to bargain with our wrath against some unknown syragh?" His fangs were sticking out by the end of his tirade.

The poor goblin was visibly shaking, but even though his eyes were rolling around about like mine were a minute before, he stood up to the guy. I give him credit there. "We could remove it, with six months to prepare, and another enclave to help us. It would cost an entire crop of Colombian coffee for three years. Do you have that to pay?"

Coffee? For real?

"No one's that powerful." From the level of fury pouring off of the vamp, I figured the green guy was about to become green goo.

"A progenitor. Or an elder who performed a major sacrifice of a family member. Syragh aren't really known for killing family members. The Huntress could do it, but it doesn't bear her mark."

Both of their eyes swung to me. That couldn't be good.

"But why? Why would such a powerful being be interested in her to that degree?" Tallis' eyes roved me like a pervert, and it was clear that he didn't like what he saw. Whatever, jerk.

I still crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously. The guy has no couth, no consideration for anyone but himself.

"Why is the ifrit interested in her?"

Tallis shrugged. "Who knows. Maybe she's a better lay than she looks like."

That was it. I'd had enough at that point. "I'm sitting right here. You don't have to be an asshole." Yes, alright, I swore at him. But do you blame me?

"Well," the goblin crossed his arms over his chest-I'm amazed the stubby things were able to reach each other, "she's got courage enough."

It's pretty easy to have courage when you're relatively sure that they're afraid of the guy you're kind of, sort of, not really dating. But totally have the hots for. Hots, ifrit, get it? Sorry, bad joke. I babble when I'm nervous, and just remembering that day makes me freak out a little.

"I'm leaning towards just stupid."

Thanks Tallis. Thanks a lot. Don't worry, though, you're not the first to say so. Doubt you'll be the last.

"Can I go home now?" I missed my kid all of a sudden. I missed my mother-in-law. I even missed my dumpy lower-class house. I'd always wanted to move up in the world, but right then, I just wanted to be home where it was familiar and the world made sense.

"No." Tallis picked me up again, bowing to the goblin with me hanging over his shoulder like a sack of dog kibbles. "We'll be in touch."

The goblin vanished and I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I was tired, maybe that was the reason people were vanishing and appearing out of thin air? I could dismiss him seeming to appear out of nowhere, but now he poofed, too. For about a half a second, I doubted my sanity.

I didn't have any more time to think about it, though. Tallis zipped out of the wet cave and the world flashed by in dizzying array once more. I think I nearly hit a tree at one point.

He stopped without warning and dropped me in a room, telling me, "I'm going to ground. Stay here, or protection spell or no, the werewolves will kill you. I will them to do so, and I might... forget... to mention that protection spell. By the time your protector knows you're in trouble, you'll already be dead, and my problem will be solved by an unlucky werewolf getting killed instead of me."

The door slammed behind him. I was really, really, really starting to just hate that guy. In fact, I was starting to hate him enough that I was considering just running away from the whole thing. Except for the minor fact that I didn't have the money to relocate me, Helen, and Drake on my own.

I flopped on the bed, belatedly realizing that I was in a hotel room. I will give the nasty vamp at least this much credit; he imprisoned me in an elegant, beautiful, luxurious hotel room. Small favors, I suppose.

I'm not sure when I fell asleep, but I must have been beyond exhausted, because when I woke, the clock said six pm and the room was pitch black. I'd slept the day away, it seemed. I sat up before I realized I'd been awakened by a knock at the door.

I peeked out to see a guy in livery. "Yes?" I yelled it through the door, scared out of my wits.

Tallis might think I'm an idiot, but it did occur to me that this guy was in disguise and was going to kill me. At this point, I didn't discount the possibility that 'I'll tell the werewolves to kill you' was a very real threat. I repeat, there are goblins, vamps, and ifriti; why not werewolves?

Maybe Tallis had decided to get rid of his little problem and face ifrit and syragh both. Offer up some poor sucker to them as my killer and walk away from it all.

"Room service. I brought your dinner."

Maybe he'd let me eat before he ripped my head off and ate my intestines. My internal stalemate was broken when my stomach growled. Besides, I doubt the door would have stopped a werewolf. Either he'd have the key already or he'd just break it down, right? That was how I rationalized opening the door.

He rolled in a cart. The smells coming from it were divine. He lifted the lid and there was steak, chicken, and some sort of lasagne. He pointed at the last, "That's vegetarian lasagne. We weren't sure..." He shrugged. He opened another lid and there were vegetables, and another with a couple of desserts.

My heart sank, though. "I can't afford this." There's no way I could have afforded such a gourmet meal. And trust me when I tell you, it was clearly a gourmet meal. Wherever I was, it was a four star hotel at minimum.

Still smiling, he shook his head. "It's going on Michael's bill. He said that we were to treat you like a princess or he'd use us for fuel."

I started laughing. I mean, come on, that's funny. 'Take care of her or I'll eat you' is what it amounted to. It took me a few seconds to realize that he wasn't laughing.

"I'm sure it was a joke." I managed to get myself under control. Poor guy, he needed to lighten up-and I was the one in a life or death situation, jeez.

He was entirely serious as he answered my comment. "That's not a risk we can take."

Taken aback, I found his solemnity unnerving. "He's not that bad. I know he's grouchy and growly sometimes, but it's not like he's Tallis or something." The guy worked here, he had to know Tallis.

He cocked his head at me with a quizzical look. "You don't really know anything about Michael, do you." It wasn't really a question, so I didn't answer it as one. I just shrugged and he continued, "Michael is as dangerous as Tallis is, in his own way. He's not as moody, but he's just as scary if he does get pissed off. No one here wants to piss him off, not even Tallis. When Tallis gets pissed, it effects the target of his anger. When Michael gets angry, there can be severe collateral damage. That's one guy you don't want to piss off, trust me."

With those chilling words as a good-bye, the guy left. I stared at the food and wondered what I'd gotten myself and my tiny little family-such as it was-into. By the time I ate that gourmet food, it had grown cold and sat like a lump of dread in my belly.

I couldn't help but wonder; was Michael a monster?


End file.
